


Battle Scars & Broken Hearts

by elliebird



Series: Previously Posted Roswell, New Mexico Fic (2019) [10]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Coda, Episode Fix-it, Episode Tag, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Past Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:21:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22828612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliebird/pseuds/elliebird
Summary: Alex and Michael talk about what happened that day in the tool shed.Written for two tumblr prompts:"Alex feeling guilt for Michael’s hand and M just letting him know it wasn’t his fault""They talk about what happened in the shed in present day and deal with their emotions surrounding it."
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: Previously Posted Roswell, New Mexico Fic (2019) [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636822
Comments: 9
Kudos: 77





	Battle Scars & Broken Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on 02.28.19

After a week of fortifying himself, Alex drove the twenty-five miles from his cabin to Sanders Auto. It was a dry, hot Saturday afternoon and the yard was quiet as he pulled in behind Michael’s truck. 

He’d taken a chance that Michael would be here. It was either here, or warming a stool at the Wild Pony. He found him outside the Airstream, slouched in an old lawn chair. He had his cowboy hat pulled down over his face. He was lean and sexy in a rough trade sort of way. The swagger and bravado he’d acquired over the last ten years added to the appeal. 

“I think we should talk,” Alex said, standing across the fire pit from Michael.  
Michael didn’t startle. There was a beat of silence in which Alex thought Michael was asleep or passed out, but then he pulled the hat up, settling it on the crown of his head. He looked like he’d been on a bender. He was unshaven, sweaty and disheveled. His eyes were bloodshot. 

Alex wasn’t here to start a fight, so he bit his tongue.  
Michael didn’t look surprised to see him. Resigned, maybe. Exhausted. But not surprised. 

“Alex,” he said like just the act of expelling breath fatigued him. “I’m tired of talking.” He reached beside him into an ancient cooler, extracted a can of beer and popped the top. “I think we said enough at the drive in.” 

Alex would go on waiting if he expected Michael to invite him to sit. He wove through the maze of chairs, stools and random crap littering the ground and took the lawn chair beside Michael. 

Michael took several gulps of beer, leaned back in the chair with his face tipped towards the sun and closed his eyes. 

Alex’s eyes settled on Michael’s hand, the one his father shattered in a rage so many years ago. It hadn’t healed right. The scars were puckered, his fingers crooked, like they’d never been properly set. 

Michael didn’t want to talk. Fine with Alex. He was the one with things to say. “Do you know how many times I thought he’d kill me?” 

Michael may as well not have been listening, for all he reacted to the words. 

“The minute the door opened, I knew that he had snapped. I think he might have killed me, if you hadn’t tried to stop him.” 

Alex watched Michael. There was that telltale tightening of his jaw, trying to reign in his anger. But aside from that, he made no move to participate in the conversation. 

Alex wasn’t gaining any ground here. Michael was immoveable.  
“Do you remember the night I brought you my brother’s guitar?” he asked abruptly. 

Michael opened his eyes. “Don’t.” 

“Why not? It’s just a question, Guerin.” Alex recognized the wheedling for what it was, a half- desperate attempt to provoke a response, to get Michael to look at him and finally, fucking finally talk about what they’d spent so many years ignoring. 

Michael sat up suddenly, tension in his shoulders. He leaned forward and said, “don’t ask me that.” His voice was tight, brittle with emotion. “Don’t ask if I remember because I think about it every single day.” 

“Michael.” Alex’s chest hurt. His body expanding to try and contain the pain it had held onto all this time and there was no place for it to go. He took a deep, dragging breath through the tightness in his chest, the ache in his shoulders, the way his throat closed up when he tried to speak. 

“You said that music was the only thing that made you feel quiet.” Michael closed his eyes, like the memory caused him physical pain. Alex had been living with that pain for a decade. Ignoring it hadn’t lessened it or made it go away. Maybe it was time to push through it and see if there was anything worth having on the other side. 

“My dad took that from you,” Alex said, his voice breaking. His throat had closed up and it hurt to push the words out. 

“Don’t say it,” Michael said, standing. “Don’t say it was your fault.” Michael was breathing hard, eyes on Alex like nothing had changed, the way Michael had looked at him that night they realized they had more in common than differences. 

The dam burst then. Alex surged up, getting to his feet and catching Michael by the wrist, forcing him to look at him “It _was_ my fault!” He was aware that his cheeks were wet, that he was flushed with emotion. “I brought you there.” 

Alex had spent the last ten years trying to bury that day. 

Michael didn’t move to get free of Alex. If anything, he shifted his weight, confronting Alex with his body. “So what? Is that what this is? You keep pushing me away to protect me?” 

“ _Yes_ ,” Alex said, desperate for Michael to understand.  
It seemed to only aggravate Michael. “Fuck you,” he said. “That’s not your decision to make.” He shook loose of Alex then, turning away. 

Alex watched him helplessly, the way his shoulders sagged, the weight of the last ten years bearing down on him. When he turned around again, his eyes were bright with emotion. 

“I told you music made me quiet. Do you know the only thing that ever brought me any peace?” 

Alex waited for the answer, knowing before Michael gave it that it would untether him. 

“You, Alex.” He stopped, his breath catching. “And then you just walked the fuck away.” 

“My dad hates me,” Alex said helplessly. “He hates who I am, he hates _what_ I am. If I stayed, he would have killed you, because of what you were to me.” 

Everything had changed that night. Whatever innocence or idealism he’d still held onto had been crushed, shattered. He’d learned one thing, though. After years of refusing to let his dad beat the life and color out of him, he’d discovered that he was willing to bend to his father’s will after all. If it meant saving Michael. 

Michael was close enough for Alex to feel the heat of him, smell the sweat on his skin. “What was I to you, Alex?” He asked like he was afraid of the answer. 

Alex shook his head in disbelief. “Everything,” he breathed. There was a beat of stunned silence between them. 

Michael took a step back like he’d just noticed how close they were. Unwilling to let him go, Alex caught him by the hem of his threadbare t-shirt. They stood like that, toe to toe, gradually leaning into one another. The weight of their history and all the years between them wrapped around them, tugging them into each other’s orbit. He felt it when Michael gave in, the way his body went loose, tension leaving him until he all but sagged against Alex, trusting that between the two of them, they’d hold each other up. 

Alex kissed Michael between one breath and the next with the summer sun on them and a dry breeze rustling the air. Michael kissed him back and it felt like a beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I'm on [Tumblr](https://elliebirdthings.tumblr.com)


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